


Rusted Iron

by UniquelyMyOwn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, BAMF Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki Does What He Wants, Other, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 21:45:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11170701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyMyOwn/pseuds/UniquelyMyOwn
Summary: He's made many mistakes in his life, he is unafraid to admit. Still, he believes he is a good person even when no one else does. He may be getting rusty and his demons gnawing at those parts, but he'll be damned to let them win. Least of all the shadowed enemy before him.





	Rusted Iron

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble I came up with between writing my Star Wars story. Hope you all enjoy an over used, but no less fun, plot bunny.

It was a palatable thing. The smoky beckoning to give in, the promised caresses of something better than this, it was such a tangible thing that he could easily see himself giving in and immediately receiving those promises. Just as easily as his rationality calmly told him the consequences of his actions. The veritable devil and angel at his shoulders if he were to put a religious prospective on it. Still, it was tempting, as it always was, a life outside of what he was thrown so harshly into but bore it with all due severity his colleagues accused him of having not a bit of it.

Blinking his eyes at the darkness, he held back a groan and leaned his head against the metal. Too damn tired for this kidnapping and torture shit he blithely thought.

"So" He drawled to the darkness. His senses told him there was someone lurking and he never ignored them, "We're getting nowhere. You refuse to romance me with candle light and I refuse to put out. The way I see it, we're at a stalemate."

"The way I see it" The bemused voice spoke to the right of him. His voice was smooth and hidden well within the shadows of his creation. The prisoner hated this captor with a deep, abiding, passion. "You have an easy choice. No one is looking for you, no one cares after everything you caused. You know this just a surely as you know you need air to breathe."

The prisoner's sense of self-deprecating humor reared its face, "Yeah, well, I love myself enough to make your statement superfluous. Their opinions are secondary."

Liar. The darkness wispered so deep, it rattled his bones.

"Come now," The voice cajoled, "You cannot lie to me." The voice took on a physical form as the person behind it lent close enough to caress his ear with his cool breath. "Just give in like your friend."

Now that set the prisoner off as he turned his head in an attempt to headbutt the bastard, but the guy in the shadows dissappeared and the prisoner let out a string of curses enough to make a sailor blush.

"Fuck you, asshole. Barton was a good man!"

"Did you really know him?" Queried the voice, "He was mine since the beginning after all." The voice had an air of wistfulness to it that set the prisoner's teeth on edge, but he'd be damned to fall prey to his obvious goad. He was a better person dammit!

Despite regaining a little more control, the prisoner could not ignore that his breaths were becoming labored. Even shallow breaths caused his chest to become aflame in pain and the prisoner hated it. He hated everything about this situation. Sure, he had his suspicions, he collected files for fuck's sake! Still, he allowed a moment of weakness to overcome him, and this is where it got him.

Fucking idiot.

"You're a smart man. Too many people are caught up in your illusion to see the man beneath the armor of suits and iron. But I see you for who you are beneath the paint over the rust and glue. I know what you can become given the right...incentive."

"Incentive" The man sneered, "I have all that I ever need or want. Nothing you can offer me-"

A mocking laugh cut the prisoner off just as he was amping up for a glorious speech of his immobility towards the dadsterdly do-wrongers side. Really, it was going to be riveting, the showman in him would've had fireworks at the end for some pizzaz.

"Oh, man of iron" A sudden blue light lit the small cell and slab the prisoner was strapped to. A man with black hair and green armor grinned at him. His staff emitting power that the prisoner knew all too well. "I just need you to give in, be it willingly or no."

Gritting his teeth, the prisoner knew he was in the greatest fight of his life; no, scratch that, his tattered (what was left of it) soul was at stake as were innumerable lives. More importantly, innocent lives, fuck whatever happened to him. Fortefying himself, he lifted his head and defiantly smirked back filled to the brim with bravado,

"Do your worst."

"Of which, I intend to do just that Stark."

As a searing pain began eviscerating his nerve endings he heard the dark haired man comment, "You'll be the third and final piece to my collection, Thor and Barton cannot wait to consummate you once I'm done here."

Thor too?! His mind screamed louder than his own voice in the cold, damp dungeon. This, right here and now would determine the fate of mankind and Tony, ever the futurist, had his hand in shaping it.

Damn you Loki, he kept his gaze on the mad bastard. His heart will give out before his soul or his mind, he was banking on it and Loki, none the wiser, would be his grim reaper, never his master.

This would be Tony's Stark last stand, and no one will ever know.

 

 


End file.
